What Death Looks For
by DespiteGatsby
Summary: What does death look for in a man? What does she crave, why she craves the soul. Albert Wesker will tell you...


**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Yet again, I am awake very early and am bored. So my sister and I are looking at deserts on her iPod and the deserts look all cute, pink, strawberry-ish, and innocent and I just said: "I need to write dying people!" And here you are! Wesker sits and ponders about why he thrills a kill. From Black Blood Studios, What Death Looks For. This fic has me and Wesker in it :p just spitball-ing with my ideas right now. **

**What Death Looks For**

The night was cold, the fog was thick, and the stars were hanging low.

Albert and I stood out on my front porch. He offered me a cigarette and I turned him down.

"Neither do I…" He shrugged and threw the box over the rail.

I chuckled and he smiled. The cold crept over to me and I shivered. I wrapped my bomber jacket more tightly around my tiny fame.

I wasn't sure if he was cold or not, but I thought, what the hell, I'll ask him.

"Hey, Wes you cold?" I asked, moving closer to him.

"No, not really." He replied, voice low.

"Ok…" I sat down on a porch step and patted the spot next to me.

Wesker didn't make a sound as he sat down. He looked out into the wooded landscape and breathed out. The cloud from the ice cold air conquered his breath and warped it into a shadowy beast of the freezing night.

I liked our little nights when we would sit on the porch. Though I disliked the blood-biting cold, Albert's warmth was always welcome. He rarely came by, but when he did we would talk and drive. Nothing much, I always see him as a brotherly figure to me aside from the part when he kisses my forehead or hand.

I moved until my shoulder brushed his arm and I laid my head on shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in closer. He was warm and I smiled.

Randomness was sometimes a sporadic occurrences when there was nothing else to talk about, and it just so happens that I was having one of my sporadic moments.

"Do you know what death wants, Albert?"

There was no response, but I knew he had an answer. The creatures of the night continued with their twilight orchestra, the wind didn't stop whispering, and the breath didn't stop breathing.

"Yes, yes I do. I know what she craves and I know what she desires."

I snuggled closer to him, ready for my favorite part of the night: Story time.

"Death is a force that cannot be stopped no matter the circumstances. We will vanquish her but she will always crawl back up the bowl like a damn cockroach. She takes the form of our worst fears, eats away at our sanity. She is so eager to take a soul, to take a life. It's a game to her, and she loves to play at high stakes. Roll the dice, which will be next? Its chance, chance is the way she operates."

A wolf sounded in the distance and I howled back. It answered and I played with it for a natural thirty seconds. When the howling seized I looked up at Albert.

"But what can it do? I know that may seem vague but there's not really any other way to explain it."

"I know what you mean. And the only way answer it is to be true. When I 'died' the feelings were overwhelming. I knew that this was either going to work or totally kill me. But at the moment my mind was set on living. So I let death play me like a puppet, she pried away my skin and bone, revealing the treasure. A man's soul is what she craves, not the blood not the flesh. She can do anything she pleases for she is Death. I know _this_ might seem vague but it's all I can really say."

I pondered his words. Let them stew in my head. I wanted to hug him but I thought it was unnecessary at the moment. Let me say that I have always felt vulnerable, but now in the darkness and with death on my mind, I felt helpless. Like there was no one there to save me. But I then remembered a man that would run three thousand miles to protect me from anything, a man who would take a bullet to the head for the sake of my safety… I felt that wherever I may roam, I was secure.

"I would sprint six thousand miles to see you safe." Albert chimed.

I laughed and smacked him playfully on the head. "You little mind reader! Stay outta my head damn you!"

"I can't help it! You're so interesting."

I have been called a lot of things. Freak, devil worshiper, madman, gore hound, but never in my life have I been called interesting. I blushed.

As the night grew old, the sounds faded and seized. I was beckoned by sleep as the chill sunk down. My eyes closed and my breath fell shallow, I witnessed one thing before my mind slipped away into flawless sleep. Albert bent down and kissed the tip of my cold nose.

**A/N: My sister just smacked me! Oh well… I hoped you liked this one as much as I did. I liked how I just put myself in this one… idk tell me how **


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